Waiting
by Nycro Shears
Summary: As I doctor, perhaps I should have realized how long it takes for disease to take effect.


As I doctor, perhaps I should have realized how long it takes for disease to take effect. Cancer, while incurable, can be reversed or stalled to some extent. My guess is that the disease was relapsing after so long spent dormant within the confines of my nano-infested veins. I can almost feel it in waves over my body; my skin numbs as the last of the drug sets in and the tiny machines within me begin their hibernation.

I have as well, it's freezing down here. My breath clouds in front of me I've lost feeling below my ankles. On occasion, I can here the distant bale of a Gekko or catch a glimpse of their tri-armed counterparts amidst the rubble of what was once REX's hanger.

I'll admit, I had thought of ending my life before; right after my savior turned slave driver. My research was constantly under the scornful eye of my captors, and I never seemed to work fast enough to meet their expectations. I was told time and time again to step up my game, to contribute something useful for once. What game did they think I was playing? I could not research something I did not know about and I could not act as the biological tech-support of an entire army.

My legs numb as the frost seeps into my nerves.

Something in my gut shifts; I roll over and gag into the ruined machinery and rubble beside me; my stomach long-since emptied from the rolling nausea that liquefies my innards. I think that object near my head was a light at some point. It makes sense, given I appear to have found shelter where a large portion of the ceiling had caved in.

Sometimes the corpse a few feet away twitches as its nanomachines, ever diligent, attempt to resurrect him. Every few moments, his jaw will shift or his eyelids will flutter. At one point, they opened entirely before his body fell still once again.

It made me wonder if he was still conscious, if he were screaming for my help from the dark, unexplored plane between consciousness and the darkness beyond.

He stills, and the silence overtakes me once more. The slow progress of the cancer forces me to amuse myself with whatever I can see from where I lay.

The ceiling has mostly fallen away to reveal the guts and bones of the facility. I few loose wires hang down from where the lights had fallen away. There are ruined walkways surrounding the room and rusted metal stairs that half-heartedly connect them. I look around and, despite the abstract nature of the scene around me; I desperately search for something out of place-something I can study. I eventually spot a massive dent in the wall towards the ceiling. I examine it, guess its depth, and even speculate as to what caused it. But the sickening realization that the crimson that surrounds it is not rust; I curl up once more, and cry for my brother as if I were a child again. I remember catching word of how Frank had gone out as the proud fox he was; saving his best friend from REX. My heart stings with bitter pride and I'm thankful that I cannot see what was left of his body.

Despite my best efforts, the cold reaches my hands my face numbs to the slight breeze within the hangar. I felt the rubble shift slightly near my shoulder and a sharp dowel digs into my side. I suppose that curling up under jagged sheets of metal framework was much more appealing when the cold started to bite and I certainly wasn't going to snuggle against the corpse of a man who'd shown me no warmth even in life.

A tiny hand fell on my waist and a Dwarf shakily clambered down to the floor of the hanger. It's sensor looked like it had popped out slightly and one of its arms hung limply from its core. It chirped at the sight of me; relaying some coded speech to its spherical brethren before awkwardly bounding off again.

I can only suppose that this was Snake's doing. Me, I'd learned to appreciate the complexity of the technology and feel almost bitter that it hadn't died as the simple toy soldier it was. I doubted that liquid would return for something as expendable as a tripod. It was doomed to wander the facility until its generous battery wore out.

I nearly cry out for it in sympathy of its situation, but the frigid air seals my lips, and it had long since begun a harsh cycle of uneventful patrols.

A wave of energy spread through my body as my nanomachines turned back on and my veins buzzed with the feeling of tiny fish darting through my bloodstream. The activity did nothing to quell the frostbite and I cursed and muttered thoughtless profanities as I shakily fumbled for another syringe from the pack I had hidden in my coat. This made…four, I think; that was how many I could count from where I lay. If there were more, they were lost behind the man a few feet away. Honestly, the whole ritual seemed so feverish in the moment. I was so desperate to leave behind the damning shackles of my filthy conscience that I had neglected to reason beyond the syringe when my opportunity arose.

As I struggled to find a vein that would effectively carry out the chemicals, the idea of more gruesome suicides flashed through my mind. Perhaps because of the intimate danger of the needle at my neck, I thought back to the array of knives he carried. If I ran out of syringes, or I went mad from this cruel waiting game, I knew that they would serve their dark purpose even after the felling of their skilled master. I wouldn't even need to know how to use them with as much skill as he did. I'm quite sure that a knife in the numb hands of desperate woman would be just as fatal.

I have lost almost all feeling in my body; my torso continues to brave to ice.

I think my mind is slowing down now. The cold is getting unbearable and I'm almost tempted to find my way through the maze of corridors to the surface and throw myself into the arms of the engineer who'd welcomed me so warmly into his home; sharing with me what little comforts he had. Maybe I could pull out some story about how I couldn't go through with it- that I felt terrible for the whole situation. He would probably forgive me; the rest of the family would take bets on who gets to shoot me first.

No, I would have to go through with this choice, one way or another. That said, by the time I run out of suppressors I will have probably lost all feeling in my arms.

I spend several minutes building strength in my limbs and clumsily crawl on all fours towards the sleeping giant a few meters away. He's been still for some time now; I can't really tell how long it's been, but I collapse for what seems like an eternity before I find the strength to search him for my prize.

The band on his arm holds several small knives. They look like the ones I kept in my kitchen before I found myself so deeply entrenched in conspiracy. Thinking back to such a simpler time made something tear away from my heart. I recall the last dinner I had with Frank before he left for Zanzibarland. I think that I had made chicken that night, and rice- Frank always liked rice. It was so mundane; he talked to me about my work, my friends, and my life. He never said anything about himself, but he listened to every word I had to say.

In my innocence, I never said goodbye when he left that night.

He shifts beside me; a cloud of mist curls out from his mouth and his chest twitches slightly as his heart starts to pump again. I reach behind me and pull out another syringe; finality washes over me as I realize this is the last one I have. I hold it to his neck and, with my waning strength, push it into the soft flesh. He groans and twitches, but falls still just as quickly as the chemicals flow into his bloodstream.

I blood seems to vanish from my arms and I collapse against him. A liquid ghosts down my neck and I remember the needle I had injected not too long ago. Or was it? I'm not sure.

The world darkens around me, and I dream of strange things. It seemed to be just several hours of ghostly white cats moving about each other. A shame, really, that my last dream could not be an interesting one.

I feel something brush over my shoulder as my body jolts awake. I have lost all feeling in my limbs by now and ache holds domain over the rest of my body. I open an eye just wide enough to see the extended manipulative sensor of a gekko. Its camera rotates and refocuses as it circles me. This one, I can tell, is not just a scout on patrol; it was told to find me. Something tells it wasn't there to bring me back to Liquid.

So I wait, and the moment seems to stretch into eternity. The finality of my actions dawns over me, and I await my final punishment.

It raises its leg and its foot crashes down over me; the feeling is not unlike falling into a deep sleep.

I don't recall ever waking up.


End file.
